“Because I thought it would be different with you.” Griffin raised his eyes to meet hers. “Cassie, you’re a remarkable person. I’ve never met anyone like you.” He stopped abruptly, growing flustered. “That is... um... You’re the pythia. That makes you different. I dare say; it makes you better. I thought Erik would see that too.” Half to himself he muttered, “Clearly, I gave the stupid prat too much credit!”
“Whoa! Ease up on the throttle, Ace.” She felt shocked by his hostile comment. In an effort to smooth things over, she added, “Just keep in mind that we might both be overreacting. Maybe something else is eating at him.”
“Yes, of course. I’m sure you’re right.” Griffin hastily agreed, recovering his composure. “I could be imputing motives to him that are entirely without basis.”
“Yeah, it has to be something else,” Cassie agreed half-heartedly.
They stared at one another bleakly in silence for a few moments.
“So how do we find out what’s really bothering him?” she ventured.
“I don’t think we can without arousing his suspicions.” Griffin sighed. “If we begin to ask pointed questions, he’s sure to become even more reticent than he already is.”
“Then all we can do is wait for the other shoe to drop,” the pythia observed glumly.
“I’m afraid so,” the scrivener concurred.
“You know, when I signed on with the Arkana, it never occurred to me that my biggest problem would be boys. Religious fanatics, smugglers, teenage runaways, cowboys with guns. Those I can handle. But boys?” She threw her hands up helplessly.
Griffin chuckled in spite of himself before adding gently, “Drink up. We have an early flight tomorrow.”
“You’re right. We both need to get some sleep.” Cassie tried to sound cheerful. “Maybe things will look different in the morning.”
“Perhaps,” the scrivener said, raising his cup to his lips.
Cassie noticed the expression on his face. He really didn’t believe things would look better in the morning. With a sense of foreboding, she realized she didn’t believe it either.
Chapter 17—Hunt for Prey
Leroy Hunt sat in his rental car camped out across the street from his quarry. He trained his binoculars on the house address and checked it against the note he’d received from the moving company lady. He had to play this just right. He didn’t want to go storming in like gangbusters until he was sure both Miz Rhonda and little Hannah were at home.
The house itself was a bungalow. Nothing special about it but that was probably the point. If folks were trying to keep a low profile, a bungalow in the middle of the old section of Phoenix surrounded by a bunch of other ugly houses was the place to hole up.
Hunt noticed the curtains move in the living room window. Somebody was stirring around inside. A few minutes later, he saw an old lady open the screen door and come out to retrieve a newspaper from the front porch steps. She straightened up and looked around vaguely before going back inside. Leroy didn’t recognize her. Maybe she was the housekeeper. He decided to hold off and keep an eye on things for a couple of hours.
***
Two days later, Leroy was still keeping an eye on things. He had switched rental cars and varied his parking spot, so nobody would get too suspicious. He needn’t have bothered. The people in this neighborhood were the least curious bunch he’d ever come across. They just went about their lawn-sprinkling, newspaper-fetching, dog-walking routines and never bothered to cast an eye in his direction.
The house he’d been watching followed its routine too. The old lady went grocery shopping, came home and shut the door. She didn’t go out in the evenings, and nobody came to call. Unless she had two hostages tied up in the basement, Leroy was pretty sure neither of the fugitives he was tailing were anywhere around.
Boredom finally made him desperate enough to take direct action. That and the daily phone calls from the preacher demanding to know if Hunt had got hold of the old man’s beloved yet. The cowboy decided it would be a wise policy going forward to tell the diviner as little as possible about his progress. Old Abe was wound up tighter than catgut on a cheap fiddle at the thought that his blushing bride might soon be under his thumb again.
Leroy climbed out of his car, straightened the bow in his string tie and crossed the street. He knocked gently on the bungalow door.
The old lady answered. At first, he thought she was standing in a hole because she was so short. She craned her neck up to peer at him through coke-bottle glasses. “Yes?” she quavered.
Hunt removed his hat. “Howdie, ma’am. I don’t mean to trouble you, but I’m tryin’ to find some friends of mine who left Chicago and moved out this way. A lady and her daughter. Name of Rhonda and the gal’s name is Hannah. They left this address but I ain’t seen either one in the neighborhood. Can you tell me where I might find ‘em?”
“Oh, yes, I know about them.” The old lady nodded. “They were the tenants before I moved here.”
“Ma’am?”
“You see, I only came to this neighborhood about a month ago. I met that woman, Rhonda, as she was packing to move out. It seems she was called away on business overseas and so she sent her daughter to live with family while she was gone.”
“Then the gal is still in Phoenix?” Leroy asked cautiously, trying not to sound too eager.
“No, she’s somewhere down east, I believe. Just a moment.” The old woman left him standing on the porch while she shuffled back inside.
Hunt tapped his toe impatiently, mulling over this strange turn of events. Why would they go to all the trouble
